The Letter in the Tent
by Karateprincess67
Summary: At the conclusion of the season 5 finale, neither Booth nor Brennan seemed all that enthused to be leaving each other for a year.  This is a letter from Bones to Booth while they're away.  one-shot, please review


A/N: Okay so I know I haven't written anything in quite awhile but I have felt little inspiration to write much lately. But, considering that I'm nearing the end of my first year of college (OMG!) and many things in my life are changing, I feel the need to write them out in one of the best ways I know how. Normally, I'd write a Mac/Stella story (and I actually did but I don't think it's very good) but I remembered the season 5 finale of Bones and I thought it was pretty perfect for what I wanted to say.

Just about everything in the Season 5 finale episode (aka "the Beginning in the End") relates to what's going on in my life right now so I thought it appropriate to write a Bones story for this situation. Not to mention I have found myself increasingly able to relate to Bones (the character, aka Dr. Temperance Brennan) as I get more into the show. I'm hoping this turns out well.

And now onto the story…

P.S.- This is a letter written to Booth in Brennan's POV in the Maluku Islands.

"The Letter in the Tent"

Dear Booth,

Although I don't intend to send you this letter or give it to you to read, I feel as though I should tell you of my trip to the Maluku Islands so far because it is what I would do if we were both at home. The weather here is quite humid and Ms. Wick insists on bathing at every possible chance, though there aren't many available places to do so. She speaks of Sweets often enough to distract me from my work and debate whether or not I should send her back to D.C. Ms. Wick has the brain to be brilliant but her personality has been grating on my nerves.

We haven't seen much of the local population since we arrived, though that's not surprising considering our remote location in an already largely unsettled area. We've found several skeletons in the few weeks that we've been here, mostly of Mongoloid origin; however there have been some rare cases of Caucasoid bone fragments among the local skeletons. Because there were so few Caucasoid bone fragments, I began to wonder if the Mongoloids had committed some sort of foul play, though we have found no evidence of it so far, nor do I expect we will, considering we only have a few pieces of a humorous, pelvis, tibia, and various phalanges. Actually, I think I confused Ms. Wick a bit when we first located the fragments; I suggested that we let you know what we found.

She told me we couldn't because of our location as well as yours and I felt rather foolish for forgetting that we were not investigating recent murders at home. I would tell you more of what we found but I don't believe that there is anyone who could explain anatomy to you at the moment.

I would assume that if we were at home now, you'd ask how I'm doing even though I just told you a great deal of my trip so far. Cam and Angela told me that you often worry about my safety at times like this. I would remind you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself but they also told me not to say that so I'll only tell you that I'm doing well and I'm enjoying myself. Ms. Wick seems to think that I'm homesick though, especially after I suggested that we let you know about the bone fragments and it was her idea for me to write a letter to you.

Of course I have no problem writing a letter to you; that would be the most effective means of communication because neither one of us has phones or electricity nor we haven't spoken since we both left two months ago. But Ms. Wick told me not to send it; she said it would be similar to keeping a personal log of my experiences here so I could say whatever I want. I don't understand the significance of writing a letter I will never send though. The purpose of writing a letter is for it to be read by the person to whom it is addressed. Also, I tell you everything anyway so I don't understand what Ms. Wick would think I need to tell you in a letter that you will never read. Normally I would ask Angela what Ms. Wick meant but she isn't here so perhaps you can explain it to me when we meet at the coffee cart.

I just asked Ms. Wick the point of this and she told me she has written letters to Sweets that she doesn't intend to send since we arrived. She told me to write down what I feel. We both know that I am often unable to quantify such things but I suppose now that we've retired to our tent for the night, it couldn't hurt to try.

I don't get homesick; I'm able to adapt to changes in my life (though I don't normally like them) because it is the rational thing to do. There is no sense in missing home just two months after I've left. I saw everyone just two months ago. We spoke just two months ago, Booth. That's only eight weeks; sixty days. In the perspective of the rest of this trip, it seems to mean so little.

But earlier when we discovered the bone fragments and I wanted to tell you, I felt as though I didn't just _**want**_ to tell you. I felt a compelling _**need**_ to tell you. As if I didn't speak to you immediately, I would burst or something, which I know is completely impossible and irrational, but it felt like it.

So I suppose Ms. Wick was correct; I am homesick. Though I find myself not missing my apartment and I don't need to speak to Cam or Sweets or even Angela or Hodgins. I know when I'll see them next and because I have an excellent memory, I doubt that it will be a problem for me to recount my entire trip to them. I find that I have many things to tell them but I don't need to tell them immediately. I can wait to see them and speak to them.

But I feel as though when I think of you, I can't wait to see you, speak to you, and hear your voice again. When I think of the two months (eight weeks; sixty days) that I haven't seen you, spoken to you, or heard your voice, I feel incredibly sad and alone. I know that it's foolish to feel as though I'm alone; Ms. Wick is sitting just a yard to my left in our tent (we're camping out for a few days to properly excavate and catalog the remains we find), but no matter how foolish I feel, I don't know how to not feel this way.

Booth, when you showed me the letter from the army, I was so sure that you wouldn't leave. You love being an FBI agent; really, there was no logical reason for you to leave. I understand how you're helping our country but you're capable of doing that at home by catching murderers and making sure they can never hurt anyone again. You were out of the service, Booth so while it's noble that you went back, I don't understand why.

I didn't want you to leave.

You know how much I wanted to come to the Maluku Islands. After all, they're an extraordinary find that can benefit the anthropological study of human kind for an unquantifiable amount of time in the future. But I feel as though I should admit something to you, Booth. What I'm going to admit is frightening to me but I know it's true. I'm not sure how or why it is true, but I know it is.

If you had turned down the army and stayed in D.C., I would have turned down the Maluku Islands project.

This is an important career advancement for both myself and Ms. Wick, but if you had decided to stay at home, I would have done the same.

I didn't want you to leave.

I didn't tell you that when we were at home because I thought it might be selfish of me to tell you. I know how much the army means to you, Booth. I know how much helping people means to you and you're helping people who are still alive rather than those who are dead. I know you would never turn down an opportunity to serve your country and I admire you for your conviction.

It would have been foolish of me to tell you I wanted you to stay or if I had asked you to stay. The army gave you a promotion. That is something to be proud of, Booth, and I wasn't going to take that away from you. It's important to you to give others the knowledge you have. I can empathize with that; I often give lectures at universities to give students a small portion of my knowledge.

As much as I wanted you to stay and as much as I wanted to ask you to stay, I knew I couldn't. I care about you too much to do that to you and to be that selfish. I'm also well aware that I'm not foolish at all.

I know I've said to you many times that the work we do for the FBI is not what my job should have been. I'm a forensic anthropologist who is meant to study bones that are centuries old. The work I'm doing in Maluku is what my job is supposed to be.

But after working with you for five years now, I've realized that the job I always wanted or should have is not the job that I want now. I am the best at what I do and my work has been satisfying. However, I find that my work with you is even more satisfying and I feel as though I am doing more good for society working with you. We catch criminals, Booth; that's much more than I can say for my work here.

Before we started working together (the second time), I was a much different person. My lab was in chaos, I had few people skills and few friends despite the amount of knowledge I have. Before, I thought that Angela was the one who changed me but I realize now that I'm not with you every day that Angela hasn't changed me that much, you have.

You're the one who taught me about people and emotions and feelings. How to interrogate a suspect properly and tell when he or she is lying. You taught me how to relate to people. You taught me that it's okay to feel emotions and act on them rationally as long as they don't cloud judgment. You taught me about life, Booth. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in my lab, looking at bones thousands of years old with no way of relating to them or understanding them as people. I would see them as merely a calcified substance that tells me about the skeleton's age, gender, race, ethnicity, and height.

When my parents left, I was hurt and I felt more alone than I ever had before. I decided soon after that that in order to feel content, I needed to feel less emotion. The less I felt, the better my life would turn out to be.

I understand now that I was mistaken. Although I am more susceptible to emotional pain, I find that it's worth it. You are the best friend I have ever had, Booth. I know that my intelligence is far superior to yours but you still have no trouble understanding me. I've never known anyone like I know you and I wouldn't trade it for anything. You've taught me that an absence of pain isn't living; it's hiding. Despite the fact that I know that I technically do not need anyone else in my life other than myself, I know that with you, I can do anything.

I never expected to learn as I have since I met you but I am so grateful to have you as a friend and to know you so well that now that I find us on opposite hemispheres of the world, I miss you more than I have missed anything or anyone in my life.

I suppose I didn't want you to leave because I felt as though we weren't finished yet. You weren't finished teaching me and I certainly wasn't finished being your friend.

It's only a year that we'll be away from each other, technically only another ten months, but I keep thinking that I won't see you again for a long time and I find that I'm not satisfied with that. I know I said that I needed a break from the work we do at home but the truth is that I've come to identify more with the work we do at home rather than the work for which I was trained. I'm looking forward to going home to work on our next murder case with you more than I imagined I would.

I need you to remember what I said before you left the airport; please don't be a hero and don't be you, Booth. If I'm going back to D.C. in ten months, I need you to go back to D.C. in ten months too. You asked me to be careful and I have. I need you to be careful as well. We're on opposite hemispheres, Booth, so if something goes wrong, I can't save you. And I can't bear to think what I would do if I never see you again.

There are exactly ten months (forty weeks; two hundred and eighty days) until we meet by the reflecting pool on the mall, next to the coffee cart and I'm counting every single one of them. I'm counting down all the time until I can hear you call me Bones again.

Bones


End file.
